


Love Paint

by jeosheo



Series: Every Afternoon [2]
Category: iKON (Kpop)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Double B get kinky in lipstick, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, Lipstick, M/M, Makeup Kink, Role Reversal, thats basically the situation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-13 15:58:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9131404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeosheo/pseuds/jeosheo
Summary: For a couple seconds, they both stare down at the lipstick like it might do something special.Bobby breaks the moment, shooting Hanbin a mischievous grin. “You should try it on.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [ZombieCheeze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieCheeze/gifts).



> Rather flatteringly I have been asked here and there if there will be extensions to [Show, Don’t Tell](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8142733) and when I've read that I've been like AH YEAH THAT CAN HAPPEN, I mean they were already happening in my mind, so! please accept the first of the stories I’m adding to this universe! I love you all and hope you are well.

Hanbin’s in his room, rooting through the pockets of a sweater in search of his phone charger, when something else falls out and clatters to the floor.

He bends down to grab the thing: a gold and black tube of lipstick.

Ah. Yes.

When Hanbin is nervous, he fidgets; he taps, he paces, he spins his cell phone in his hands over and over. When he is nervous backstage, most likely before a performance, he grabs the nearest small and interesting-looking thing, which is usually makeup, and plays with it until he’s calmed at least a bit.

Apparently today he did not put back what he picked up. He must’ve slipped it into his pocket without realizing. He doesn’t even remember taking it.

Hanbin sits on his bed with the lipstick, opening and then shutting it to hear the _click._ Everyone in the group has had to wear lipstick in the past on plenty of occasions, for performances and photoshoots, though, Hanbin has noticed, the makeup artists almost always choose colors that look exactly like the members’ lips—never something as exciting as red, unless they’re intentionally trying to look goofy. 

He’s caught up in rolling the lipstick tube back and forth in his palm, and wondering how a person becomes a makeup artist in the first place, when the door opens and Bobby sails in. “Ey!” he greets, and closes the door, then strips down out of his sweats lightning-fast and changes into jeans and a tank. He flings himself onto Hanbin’s bed, laying with his head by Hanbin’s crossed knees. 

Before Hanbin can greet him back, though, Bobby asks, “what’s that?”

“What? Oh.” Hanbin opens his palm to reveal the plastic cylinder. “Uh…lipstick.”

Bobby’s face alights with curiosity. “Where’d you get it?”

“The…makeup stylists,” Hanbin says vaguely.

“They gave it to you?”

Hanbin looks away guiltily.

Bobby gasps dramatically. “Bin! Did you _steal_ it?”

“It was an accident!” Hanbin defends. “I was messing with it, I must’ve put it in my pocket!”

“Thief!” Bobby pokes at Hanbin’s chest, then his ticklish sides, and Hanbin yelps, quickly clamping his arms down as protection. Bobby tries to slide his hands under Hanbin’s arms as he repeats, “Thief! Sneaky thief!”

“Stop!” Hanbin shrieks, an embarrassing stray giggle escaping. “Stop! Hyung!”

Bobby halts the tickling and points an accusing finger at Hanbin. “Don’t lie!”

Hanbin skitters back on the bed. “It was a mistake! I’ll give it back!”

Bobby stares him down, then breaks into laughter. 

“It’s okay,” he says, leaning back against the wall. “I know you’re not a thief.”

Hanbin rolls his eyes, slowly lowering his arms from their defensive positions at his sides, and sits back too. They lapse into silence, and Hanbin returns to rolling the tube in his hand.

Bobby asks, “How do they know what color it is?” He points at the lipstick. “From looking at the outside.”

Hanbin turns over the tube to reveal a small sticker, a little red circle, on the bottom. The name of the shade is printed in tiny white letters at the circle’s center. 

Bobby makes an _ah_ of understanding. Hanbin opens the tube to show the matching shade inside, a deep but vivid red.

“I think they have it to mix with other colors,” Hanbin suggests, since he’s not really sure why the artists have it but have never used it, and Bobby shrugs like, _sure, that sounds right._

For a couple seconds, they both stare down at the lipstick like it might do something special.

Bobby breaks the moment, shooting Hanbin a mischievous grin. “You should try it on.”

Hanbin’s cheeks warm. “Uh…”

He hadn’t really been thinking about it; mostly, he’s been enjoying the feel of the tube in his hand. He genuinely didn’t steal it to wear it. He’s never done something like that, wear lipstick _not_ for cameras, before.

But, hey, it’s not _that_ out there, is it? And he’s kind of curious anyway. 

So it wouldn’t hurt to try. 

Right? 

His contemplation must give him away, because Bobby gets excited and prompts, “Are you gonna do it?”

Hanbin shrugs. “I guess.” 

He reaches for the little folding mirror on his desk and turns it so he can see himself, then leans in towards his reflection. Bobby crowds in to watch too, mouth hanging open, bunny teeth peeking out.

Hanbin twists the lipstick up and parts his lips. He’s watched stylists apply this stuff a million times; it can’t be any harder than it looks.

It is _much_ harder than it looks. Like an absolute fool, he begins by recklessly making a huge stripe across his mouth, practically painting the entire bottom half of his face red.

Ignoring Bobby’s laughter, Hanbin pouts and he rubs at the red on his chin until it’s not so offensive, then tries again, taking more care and pointing the lipstick more precisely. 

He doesn’t do great, but he covers enough of his lips to get the point across. He and Bobby back up from the mirror to check it.

It turns out that Hanbin in red lipstick looks like…Hanbin in red lipstick. It’s…fine. The color is kind of pleasant. And the texture is interesting, in a good way; it’s heavier than most of the stuff the stylists have put on his lips, and pretty creamy when he rubs his lips together. But he finds himself unmoved by the image altogether. 

He turns to Bobby. “What do you think?”

Bobby smiles, and presses the pad of a finger to Hanbin’s mouth. “Nice,” he says. “Cute.” His nose scrunches in consideration. “Not really the right color though, huh?”

Hanbin shakes his head. “Too bright, or something.” 

“Hmmm. But I still like it,” Bobby declares. “You look sweet.” He pecks Hanbin’s lips without warning, then laughs when Hanbin blinks in surprise.

Hanbin rubs his lips together and grimaces. “It’s kind of sticky,” he says of the texture. He pivots so he can search his desk for the makeup remover wipes he keeps there.

Waggling his brows, Bobby teases, “I wouldn’t complain if I saw this look more often.” 

Hanbin smiles despite himself, pulling a makeup remover cloth out of the first desk drawer and rubbing it against his lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He finishes and tosses the wadded-up cloth at the wastebasket, and glances back in the mirror. Now that all the lipstick is gone, his mouth is slightly stained pink, like they’ve been bitten. To him, that’s actually cooler than how the lipstick looked.

Hanbin turns to Bobby, brow raised. “Your turn,” he announces. 

Bobby freezes, then busts out a bright grin. 

“Let’s do it.” He crawls forward on the bed, so he and Hanbin are facing each other fully. “See if I’m the prettiest princess after all.”

Hanbin sighs. “You’re always the prettiest princess, hyung.” He holds the lipstick tube like a pencil this time—he thinks he’s starting to get the hang of this—and levels it to Bobby’s lips.

Everything’s fine, everything’s cool—everything’s totally normal—and then Hanbin touches the lipstick to Bobby’s lips, and something changes.

Immediately, Bobby freezes. His quiet breaths get a little faster, and the air around them becomes charged. 

Hanbin doesn’t know what’s going on, what switch has just been flipped, but he makes sure that he is very, very careful as he applies the color, though his sudden nervousness make some of the lines on the bottom of Bobby’s lips and around his cupid’s bow a bit shaky. Bobby remains totally still the whole time.

“Here,” Hanbin murmurs, re-capping the lipstick and dropping it to the bed, then licking a thumb. Bobby inhales sharply as Hanbin gently rubs a couple spots by Bobby’s mouth, cleaning up the lines as best he’s able. 

Hanbin finishes and leans back. 

Bobby’s eyes are wide. There’s something in his expression that seems…scared. When his voice comes out, it’s quiet and it trembles.

“Does it look good?”

Hanbin begins, “It looks…” 

He can’t even lie—though the color is slightly jarring, and a little strange without any other makeup on Bobby’s face, it actually looks _right._ The overall effect is unexpectedly elegant, a picture that’s messy but kind of dazzling. 

“…really good,” Hanbin says honestly.

Bobby nods nervously.

Hanbin gestures towards the mirror on his desk. “Wanna look?” 

Bobby nods again. Hanbin thinks that maybe only once or twice he’s seen Bobby this freaked over something that wasn’t having to perform live or a serious snag in their relationship. He passes the mirror over. 

Bobby takes it with shaky hands. When he sees himself, he looks terribly overwhelmed.

“It’s good,” Hanbin tries to reassure him, then internally curses himself. He’s not really helping the situation. 

Hanbin tries again. “I messed up the edges,” he explains. “But if you let me,” he offers cautiously, “I can redo it so it’ll look better.”

Bobby eyes him uncertainly, like he thinks Hanbin might be teasing, but after some hesitation he inclines his head. 

Hanbin retrieves another makeup remover cloth. Undoing the whole thing is an experience in itself; there’s something oddly satisfying, a sort of low key excitement, that Hanbin finds in taking the lipstick off of Bobby.

This time around, when he uncaps the tube, Hanbin does what he’s seen the stylists do: he presses his finger against the curve of the lipstick, and then dabs the color slowly, pat by pat, onto Bobby’s lips. He concentrates on getting it right, and tries not to focus on the way their knees are touching, and the inarticulable, electric feeling radiating off of Bobby.

He fills in Bobby’s lips so the outline isn’t so fucked, then sweeps the tube across those fingerprints of color, which he enjoys. Then he grabs another makeup wipe and folds it into a tight corner, to swipe it around the edges. 

Finally, he rubs his thumb at the inside corners of Bobby’s mouth, to spread the color onto the spots where there isn’t any. Bobby parts his mouth silently to assist.

Hanbin draws back, and exhales for the first time since he started.

Bobby may not be back to breathing yet; he looks like he kind of wants to collapse in on himself. But it’s _wild_ how stunning he looks. Hanbin feels proud of himself for doing well on the application this time: the layered color looks lush, enticing so that he wants to touch. 

He registers that Bobby must’ve been in colorful lipstick like this at least once or twice in the past, for some silly event or variety gag or other, but Hanbin can’t believe he doesn’t remember every moment of it, exactly, vividly. 

“Okay,” Hanbin says. “Check it.” He grabs the mirror and holds it up, almost sure that Bobby won’t be able to keep a grasp on it at this point. 

Bobby sees himself, and promptly turns a color very similar to his lips. He squeezes shut his eyes and turns away from the mirror.

This moment, Hanbin recognizes, is important. This whole thing, as out of the blue as it may be, is important to Bobby. Hanbin summons the courage to say what he’s thinking.

“Hyung,” he says, “you look _beautiful.”_

Bobby’s breaths pause, and he opens his eyes back up to stare at Hanbin. His red mouth opens, Hanbin thinks maybe to say _really?,_ but the words don’t come out.

“It's incredible,” Hanbin answers. “You look incredible.”

Finally, under all of his embarrassment, a sliver of reassurance appears in Bobby’s expression. 

Hanbin settles the mirror back on his desk, and takes his time so that he has a moment to think.

In nearly all their fucking, before they were a couple and now that they’re together, Bobby has been in charge. It’s always worked for them, and Hanbin loves it, but he remembers the one time he dominated Bobby, pinning him down and grinding against him until they both came. He remembers Bobby’s shocked excitement, his easy delight and immediate obedience.

This is nothing like that. 

Right now, Bobby _needs_ Hanbin. 

“Hyung.” Hanbin breaks the silence between them, and Bobby’s eyes dart to him. “Come here.”

Avoiding eye contact, Bobby shuffles forward until he’s in Hanbin’s lap, knees on either side of Hanbin’s thighs. They’ve never done this before, him in Hanbin’s lap, but the younger can’t deny how excited it makes him. 

“Give me a kiss,” Hanbin says. 

Bobby looks mortified, but he leans in and presses his lips to Hanbin’s, quick and hesitant. It lasts not even a second, maybe half of one.

Hanbin nods. “Good,” he says. “But I think you can do better.”

Almost forgetting his reticence, Bobby looks startled, then encouraged.

The second kiss is less tentative, a sweeter press, lingering for two long seconds.

When they part, Hanbin wonders if a bit of lipstick has passed to his mouth too. “That was really good,” he praises into the small space between their mouths.

Bobby clutches the sleeves Hanbin’s hoodie tightly. “Bin,” he says.

Hanbin nods.

“I’m hard,” he whispers anxiously.

Fuck. Hanbin cups Bobby’s jaw, brushing his thumb right below the curve of Bobby’s plush red bottom lip. “I’ll help you,” he soothes, an unfamiliar confidence stretching across his chest and pushing up against his sternum. He thinks of what Bobby says when Hanbin feels like this. “I’ll take care of you. Okay?”

Bobby whines lowly. 

“Okay. Alright.” Hanbin keeps one hand on Bobby’s jaw and lowers the other to the zip of his pants. Bobby’s shaking where they touch; Hanbin can feel the older’s heart beating like it’s slamming against his own ribs. Hanbin continues rubbing his thumb below Bobby’s lip, hoping it will have a calming effect.

He undoes the button and zipper on Bobby’s pants, and looks down. There’s a dark, wet spot on Bobby’s boxers where his cock strains against them, and _fuck,_ Bobby wasn’t kidding about being hard; he’s _leaking._

“You’re so turned on by this,” Hanbin says gently. He runs his hand back up under Bobby’s tank, and scratches at his abs, teases over a ticklish spot on his ribs. Bobby shivers. 

“This, off,” Hanbin says, tugging at the tank, and Bobby complies, jittery as he pulls it off. Bobby has never before been hesitant about showing his body, but now he can see Bobby folding in on himself, hiding slightly. And god, he’s even more stunning like this, with the lipstick and without the shirt.

“Gorgeous,” Hanbin praises. The bottom lip of Bobby’s sumptuous mouth quivers. He winds his arms around Hanbin’s neck and holds on like his life depends on it, and Hanbin decides he likes this a lot—Bobby in his lap, wrapped around Hanbin, shaking and desperate.

“I—“ Bobby draws even closer, digging his fingers into Hanbin’s shirt above his shoulder blades, “I want—“

Hanbin moves back to Bobby’s crotch and curves a hand around his erection, over his underwear. He presses, asks, “you want this?” and Bobby groans. 

Emboldened, Hanbin slips his hand under the waistband of Bobby’s boxers.

“And you want to be pretty,” Hanbin murmurs. “Don’t you?”

Bobby’s hushed “yes” is broken in half as Hanbin takes him in hand.

“You are,” Hanbin tells him, thrilled by Bobby's reactions. “You are pretty.”

Bobby’s hips bucks up into Hanbin’s fist, meeting Hanbin’s stroke down, and he leaks more onto Hanbin’s fingers.

Hanbin strokes Bobby, slow but tight and hard, until they’re moving together in a rhythm back and forth, and then Bobby pushes forward far enough that his hips bump against Hanbin’s, and Hanbin realizes his own arousal as his cock jerks painfully against the constriction of his pants. With each of Bobby’s rushed breaths Hanbin feels his own excitement ratchet up more and more, until he feels nearly as tightly wound as Bobby sounds.

“Fuck,” Hanbin gasps, pressing their foreheads together, “I want—I want to mess you up, I want to ruin that perfect lipstick.”

Bobby whimpers.

“Please,” he begs.

Hanbin slides his thumb into Bobby’s mouth and Bobby takes it in immediately, sucking like he was wanting to do that the whole time. Maybe he was. Hanbin bites back a moan.

Bobby’s reluctant to let Hanbin’s thumb go, grazing it with his teeth as Hanbin slides it back out. Hanbin uses the spit-slick of it to smear the lipstick from Bobby’s bottom lip, leaving a sloppy blush stain down to his jaw. Hanbin really fucking wishes he could take a picture right now. “Beautiful,” he repeats, breathes it out, and presses his lips to the blurred color. Bobby shudders. 

He moves his hand on Bobby’s cock faster. “Kiss me again,” Hanbin breathes, “for real this time. Come on, baby.”

The term just slips out—Hanbin’s never called Bobby that, Bobby’s the one that uses it—but it clearly has an effect, as Bobby moans and sways forward to connect their mouths. He kisses Hanbin lewdly, tongue pushing against the younger’s, as his hips frantically rock up into Hanbin’s grip.

The look of Bobby when the kiss breaks is a hot, disheveled, glorious mess, panting and pupils blown, with lipstick smeared violently off the side and bottom of his mouth. Hanbin feels mesmerized—he knows he must look somewhere near that debauched with the lipstick that’s spread around his own mouth. 

He hasn’t even been touched, but Hanbin doesn’t think he can hold on much longer. He squeezes Bobby’s erection, and he knows Bobby is close too. “Do you want to come?” he asks.

“Yes, yes,” Bobby rushes out.

Hanbin squeezes tighter. “Yes?”

Bobby rocks forward. _“Yes,”_ he pants into Hanbin’s mouth.

“Ask,” Hanbin demands.

Bobby breathes in, out, in, out, gathering himself, focusing on making words. “Can I come,” he manages.

He startles when Hanbin squeezes him tight enough to be painful. “Come _what?”_

“Come _please,”_ Bobby pleads, “can I come _please.”_

Hanbin makes him wait another long moment, stroking him and watching him squirm. Then he tells Bobby, “fuck into my hand, until you come.”

Bobby obeys immediately, does as Hanbin’s told him so quickly that it nearly makes Hanbin’s head spin, pushing his hips up into Hanbin’s fist desperately. When Hanbin tightens his grip further, Bobby stills, and Hanbin gets to watch him fall apart.

Bobby moans heatedly as he comes, magnificent and frenzied, biting down on his stained bottom lip and tightening his arms around Hanbin’s neck. He paints Hanbin’s hand and shirt and his own torso white, and then drops his head to rest on his bicep where it rests on Hanbin’s shoulder, catching his breath. Hanbin keeps Bobby close, holds onto him, threads his fingers into his hair and feels the sweat on the back of his neck.

Bobby shifts so his breaths meet Hanbin’s lips. “I—I want you to come,” he exhales. “I want to make you come, please, please let me.”

Jesus. “Yes,” Hanbin allows, and Bobby hurriedly unwinds his arms from around Hanbin’s neck and moves down Hanbin’s body until he’s laying down, nearly wrapping himself around Hanbin’s legs and yanking down his pants. 

Hanbin feels a shock of relief as he’s released from his clothing, groaning when the cool air hits his hot erection, and then moans as Bobby takes him into his mouth.

He knows that he will not last long with Bobby’s hot, wet mouth around him, sucking him with fervor. His hips push up and Bobby swallows him down with ease, so that Hanbin whimpers and looks down.

The sight of Bobby in disarray, with the smeared lipstick and his hair damp from sweat, taking Hanbin’s cock eagerly, looking up at Hanbin intently as he does it, tips Hanbin over the edge. With a groan, he comes into Bobby’s mouth, tugging on Bobby's hair as his hips stutter.

Bobby pulls off, and crawls back up the bed. Hanbin pulls him down so that he lays on top of the younger, their chests and legs pressed together. Bobby surges forward toward Hanbin so their faces are close but then stops himself, looking self-conscious.

“Can I have another kiss?” he asks bashfully, like Hanbin might actually turn him down, and it’s adorable. 

Hanbin pulls Bobby down for a kiss that’s warm and solid, so that Bobby melts in his arms. They pull apart and Bobby looks at Hanbin with an amazement that Hanbin thinks he could get high off of.

Hanbin clears his throat. 

“I'll give the lipstick back,” he informs. He's oddly shy to talk about this after what they've done, but he wants to do this for Bobby. “But then I will make sure there's some...here. For...us.” He secures his arms around the older. “It will not involve stealing. I promise.”

Eyes wide, Bobby bites his lip, nodding in approval.

A stray lock of hair falls into Bobby's eyes, and Hanbin brushes it back.

“Who’s the prettiest princess?” he teases quietly, and Bobby laughs, looking a mix of embarrassed and giddy and just a hint proud. 

“Me,” Bobby mumbles. He lays his head on Hanbin’s chest, his eyes falling shut.

Hanbin smiles. “That’s right.” He presses a thumb to Bobby’s lips once more as the older drifts off. “You.”


End file.
